The First Annual Bleeding Obvious Award for the Achievement of Outstanding Celebrity
Without Really Doing Very Much

It's a sad fact that all too often genuine ability and aptitude goes unrecognised and
unrewarded.

There is a vast pool of talent out there that has never been tapped, and
never will be. Great painters whose work will never see the light of day, musicians
whose melodies will forever fall upon deaf ears, poets whose verses will go unread, in
spite of their ability to put words together really good.

That this situation
persists is only right and proper.

These people are losers who should be actively
scorned or, at the very least, entirely disregarded.

Celebrate the achievers

Instead, it behoves us all to celebrate the achievers. Those people whose faces
regularly adorn our glossiest of magazines, whose exploits fill our seediest of
newspapers, and whose fascinating personalities are paraded for the benefit of we mere
mortals on all the best panel games, talk shows and celebrity telethons.

And who
could be more worthy of our admiration than those who have achieved fame, fortune and
notoriety without having to perfect their art, struggle for recognition or develop any
kind of talent? After all, anyone can learn to act, or paint, or dance, or
sing.

But to be born into an acting family, to be the niece of a high-ranking TV
executive or to been fortunate enough to have gone to university with the son of a rich
publisher - these things are decreed by fate and fortune. They are divine
happenstances that separate regular workaday chaff like us from the celebrity wheat, who
are so much thinner, richer, healthier and, well, just so much better than normal people.

Celebrity is about nothing if not about being in the right place at the right time

We here at The University of the Bleeding Obvious have, for some time, lamented the
fact that this select group of fine people has not really had the recognition that it
truly deserves. And so, realising that celebrity is about nothing if not about being
in the right place at the right time, we decided to inaugurate The Bleeding Obvious Award
for the Achievement of Outstanding Celebrity Without Really Doing Very Much.

And what better way to celebrate such an award than with a glitzy star-studded bash in
the West End, where already over-exposed media people, up-and-coming teen idols and faded
has-beens can be seen, photographed, and involve themselves in scrupulously stage-managed
indiscretions that will guarantee them a centre page spread in the Sunday papers at
the weekend?

Unfortunately the Albert Hall was already booked and the Palladium was
being fumigated, but we sat down with a jug of coffee, pulled out the Yellow Pages and
eventually managed to secure the Gala Bingo Hall in Broadstairs for a very reasonable
rate. And they even offered to do the sandwiches at half price if we paid in cash.

They apologised and offered to send us a spare trombonist

The date was set. The invitations were printed. The red carpet was given a
thorough going-over with a stiff broom and we put all the little sausages on sticks.

We were determined that this was going to a suitably glittering occasion and to
this end we ordered 400 tons of glitter with which to sprinkle the guests as they entered.

Then, the day before the ceremony, disaster struck. The 72-piece orchestra
that we had engaged phoned us up to tell us they were double booked and that they would have to
cancel us in favour of a golden wedding anniversary in Brighton. They apologised
and offered to send us a spare trombonist that they had knocking about, but explained that
he would only be able to do twenty minutes as he had to get back early to let his cats
out.

We were grateful for this gesture, but it still left us in the lurch.
Then, as luck would have it, the manager of the hall informed us that his brother-in-law
ran a mobile disco, and would be available for the evening. We were saved.

The usual glut of astrologers and TV psychics

All was ready! We must admit to feelings of trepidation as our guests began to
arrive. A crowd of eager photographers, autograph hunters, well-wishers and homicidal
stalkers began to gather as the limos pulled up outside the main entrance to deposit the
very cream of the celebrity circuit on our doorstep. Soap stars, children's TV
presenters and daytime fashion gurus, not to mention the usual glut of astrologers and TV
psychics, who always seem to turn up at these events despite the lack of
invitation.

Then a minibus arrived to disgorge this season's batch of
high-profile slappers, including Marti Hershel who has recently been linked with a couple
of second division footballers, Janine Redbury, who was caught at it in March with a
happily married sitcom star, and Sarah Kandinsky, the 'Bermondsey Banger', whose exploits
with a certain backbench Tory MP single-handedly doubled the sales of Marmite in the last
quarter of 2002.

Then there was much excitement upon the arrival of popular sportsman Colin Dechamp,
whose commercials for Pot Snax have made him the nation's favourite loveable rogue.
Apparently, Colin once won an Olympic Gold medal for running, or something, so that may be
something for him to fall back on when his TV career goes belly up.

Window after window sailed slowly passed us

Finally, the crowd was hushed to an almost awe-struck silence as one of the longest
limousines we have ever witnessed appeared around the corner and drew up to the entrance
with stately grace.

Window after window sailed slowly passed us, tinted black,
reflecting our own expectant faces but offering no clue as to the occupants. After
what seemed like an age it gradually came to a gentle stop. Doors opened - many
doors - and a platoon of bodyguards issued forth to flank the vehicle.

Then a
handsome young couple emerged to a roar of delight from the assembled throng. She
was slender, graceful, with a radiant smile and flowing golden hair; he was svelte,
pleasantly rugged, with chiselled features and steel blue eyes. The crowd adored
them, and this delightful couple acknowledged their love and affection with great charm
and aplomb before proceeding into the auditorium. Lovely people.

To this day,
we still don't know who the hell they were.

Overflowing with complimentary peanuts

And so, with our guests seated, the lights dimmed and the tables practically
overflowing with complimentary peanuts, it was time for the show to begin.

We kicked
off in style with a big dance number, featuring twenty-five students from the local
experimental theatre company performing a rumba to the Village People's 'YMCA' - supposedly
depicting the betrayal of Russian Cossacks following the Second World War. They
exited the stage to a peel of riotous applause from one man sitting in the third row.

Then it was time to get the ball rolling, and we were most fortunate that the popular
comedian Ben Skelton agreed to be our compere. As you may know, Ben once did a
mildly amusing routine about tube trains in 1985 and he has been much in demand ever
since.

Aside from hosting award ceremonies, Ben also attends a great many film
premieres, so we were lucky to get him. Rumour has it that he is currently working
on a new joke, which he hopes will form the basis of his new book and screenplay, and he
is confident that there is every possibility of a musical based on the gag. So, best
of luck Ben.

These routines are like old friends now

We were sure that Ben would be on fine form for our event, and we were not
disappointed. To the delight of the audience he once again treated us to his
classic tube train routine, plus the hilarious fast food monologue and that old favourite,
the taxi driver gag. These routines are like old friends now, and no ceremony would
be complete without them.

Then it was time for the first award - Best Celebrity
Fitness Video. To announce the nominations was another old favourite, Sue Diamond -
three-times winner of the International Arse of the Year Award and herself no stranger to
the celebrity cash-in video.

The three contenders were shortlisted not just on the
basis of sales, but also for the most outlandish claims for weight loss. Former soap
starlet Gemma McKenzie trod familiar ground with her Samba Slimming Programme.
Meanwhile, former soap starlet Donna Peters greatly impressed the judges with her slightly
more adventurous Twelve Step Chainsaw Plan to a Better You. But the ultimate winner
was former soap starlet Tracey Newcombe for The Origami Workout - Fold Yourself Thin.

Next up was the Most Dramatic Fall From Grace award. This was to be presented to
the star whose debauchery and subsequent high-profile sacking had secured them the
greatest media attention. As you might imagine, this was easily the most fiercely
contested category, having been such a prolific year for disgraced celebrities.
However, the award finally went to 'reformed' junkie and alcoholic Richard Nilhism, whose
rambling, incoherent appearances on morning TV - coupled with his dogged persistence that
he's still on the wagon in spite of the fact that he's clearly pissed out of his tiny head
- impressed all the judges.

Celebrity Pants

There was time for one more award before the main event - Best Career Salvaging Stint
in a Popular Panel Game. Nominations were former actor Danny Jervis for Celebrity
Pants on BBC1; former journalist Amy Whetton for Whose Granddad? on ITV; and former
stand-up comic Phill Burton for Hold This For a Minute on Radio Four. The winner was
Phill Burton, who will return for the grand final next week

This brought us very neatly to our finale, The Bleeding Obvious Award for the
Achievement of Outstanding Celebrity Without Really Doing Very Much.

To present the award
we welcomed onto the stage the celebrated actor Sir Richard Dangle, whose monumentally
successful career in advertising voice-overs means that he will never have to perform on
stage ever again. With great gravitas he announced - with that familiar, distinctive
diction that has been used to advertise everything from Tupperware to toilet rolls - that
the winner of this first award was none other than Mary-Ann Slagg.

Dazzling young socialite

And there really couldn't have been a more popular choice. The audience rose for
a standing ovation as a tearful Mary-Ann made her way towards the stage. This
dazzling young socialite, who first came to our attention four years ago when she began to
frequent all the most exclusive London night-spots, is currently the darling of the
tabloids.

This is in no small part due to the phenomenal success of her recent
autobiography, People I Have Shagged. At first she was only ever seen dripping off
the arms of pop stars, actors and media moguls. But rapidly, as her fame gathered
pace, she began to assemble an entourage of her own - famous chums and drinking buddies
who followed her from club to bar to film premiere, and who were eager to be photographed
in her company.

But just who is Mary-Ann Slagg? Is she the glamorous daughter of some rich lord
or earl? Perhaps she's an aspiring actress or model? We may never find out
exactly who she is, or what she does, and it is this enduring enigma that accounts for our
fascination with her.

Viewers have been mesmerised by her increasingly regular appearances
on daytime TV shows to air her opinions about fashion, cosmetics and the showbiz
scene. And at the beginning of this year her public profile was thrown into sharper
relief by her appearance on the reality TV show Celebrity Mausoleum, in which six
semi-famous people have to spend four weeks in a vault, with the public periodically
deciding which ones they ought to bury.

She shrieked loudly and jumped up and down

Mary-Ann's reaction to receiving our award was typically dramatic. Upon reaching the
podium she shrieked loudly and jumped up and down. Then, struggling in between sobs and
wails, she gushed that she didn't really deserve such an honour, and went on to thank her
close family of stylists, make-up people and hairdressers.

Finally, in serious,
measured, sincere tones she spoke of her gratitude to us, the ordinary people, and told us
that we were all very special, even though we weren't famous or anything. Then, with a
tiny tear glistening in the corner of her eye, she issued a final, humble, 'thank you',
then stepped back from the microphone to receive our admiration.

The audience rose to its feet once more, and by this time our eyes were glistening
too. It had been the perfect climax to a fantastic evening. For our part we
were incredibly proud and felt that in staging this event we had, in some small way, paid
tribute to the wonderful people who populate our media and enrich our lives.

For one
brief evening we had become part of their world. We ordinary folk - who work from 9
to 5, who pay our mortgages, who struggle with bills and taxes and debts, and whose only
hope of ever distinguishing ourselves in life is by dying young - had, for one fleeting
moment in time, touched the stars.